


No Light, No Light

by scapegrace74



Series: Metric Universe [15]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scapegrace74/pseuds/scapegrace74
Summary: To recap where we’re at in the Metric Universe, Jamie and Claire are living separately while their building gets repaired after a fire.  Jamie has confessed to loving Claire, and she hesitantly agreed to give a romantic relationship between them a chance.  The dates have gone well.  Really well.  Maybe a bit too well...The amazing song by Florence + The Machine (another guest artist!) that inspired the title and features in a few lines can be heard here: https://youtu.be/HGH-4jQZRcc
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Metric Universe [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759669
Comments: 61
Kudos: 127





	No Light, No Light

**August 24, 2018, Scottish Highlands, Scotland**

Outside the train, the landscape slid by in an emerald smear. It had been raining earlier, but as the sun dipped westward it broke from beneath the clouds, setting the greens afire. The view was violently beautiful, but Claire stared instead at her face, pensive and wan, reflected in the smudgy window. There was an almost laughable lack of connection between herself and the taciturn man to her left.

It hadn’t started out that way. After a near-idyllic summer dedicated to their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company, this trip to Scotland was meant as a culmination of sorts. A validation that they were moving towards something momentous. A delineation between their past as friends and their future as... something more. 

Jamie had first mentioned the idea in passing while they waited in line for a gelato in the shadow of the Gherkin on a hot July day.

“T’would be braw tae introduce ye to Lallybroch before ye return tae yer studies, Sassenach,” had been his exact words. Claire had learned to appreciate Jamie’s deft navigation of the shoals of her caution. An invitation to meet his family would have garnered an immediate negative response, but an invitation to his family home received an ambiguous hum.

Several weeks later, they were searching Netflix for a movie they could agree on while cat-sitting for Joe and Gayle. Said cat was lounging on the sofa cushions between them when Jamie casually raised the ante.

“Tomorrow I’ll be buyin’ my ticket home for the August bank holiday. The trains north will be packed, so I was thinkin’ I’d grab a second seat. Just in case, ye ken. T'is refundable, sae there’s no harm.”

By the end of the evening, the cat had fled the room, Claire’s shirt was down to its last button, Jamie’s summer tan couldn’t mask the flush of blood that raced beneath his skin, and the idea of spending a weekend away together sat like an unopened present on the closet shelf of their minds.

Last Monday, between her day shift and his graveyard, they had met for coffee to discuss the details of moving back into their flat.

“Jamie, my name is on this lease.” Claire set down her cup rather abruptly on the table, spilling a few hot drops over her fingers.

“Aye, tis. I asked the landlord tae include us both. Considering all the delays an’ the nuisance, tis the least they could do.” Pausing to hand her a napkin, he balanced his fingertips over her scalded knuckles. It’s yer flat too, Sassenach. No matter what.”

The gravity of the moment hung heavy in the air. Neither spoke for a while, letting the hum of ambient conversation dull the edges of their nerves. Claire slid an unsigned copy of the lease into her satchel.

“I, uh, I ken this mayna be the best time tae be bringing this up, but I’ll be away home come Thursday, back on Monday. There’s still a ticket in yer name, should ye wish tae come wi’ me.”

She looked at him then, so earnest and open and hopeful, the sunlight from the street burnishing his hair coppery-gold. He’d crept in like a thief, disturbing the tidy boxes of her life and leaving traces of his passage on her heart. A thief who gave instead of took, and whose only crime was to love without recompense.

“What would it mean, if I went to Scotland with you?” she asked quietly.

“It would mean everything to me,” he admitted.

That hadn’t been what she was asking, but it was her answer all the same.

The day before they were due to depart, Claire had been eating a late afternoon snack in the hospital cafeteria when a familiar tall form in running gear caught her eye. She couldn’t suppress the frisson of delight she felt as he made his way towards her table, a whiplash of appreciative female gazes following in his wake.

His infectious smile of greeting faltered and then disappeared as he caught sight of what she was reading.

Oh.

The monthly rental property magazine had been there when she sat down, but she’d be lying to say she was browsing it purely out of idle curiosity. The weight of seeing her name next to Jamie’s on the as-yet unsigned lease had been pressing down on her since Monday. 

On the one hand, it was a tremendous relief - no longer could the outcome of their courtship render her homeless - not that she could imagine Jamie ever being as cruel as Frank. But it also implied a commitment, a state of permanence between them, that quite frankly scared the shit out of her. And so she had been perusing her options, not with any serious intent, but because it gave her comfort to know they existed. Jamie had dropped by unannounced at the worst possible time.

A crowded cafeteria wasn’t the place to start making excuses, so after a stilted exchange about meeting the next day at Euston Station, Jamie departed, a small storm cloud of ire floating above his head. 

By the time they met the following morning, that cloud had darkened to a gale, blowing all hope of casual conversation before it. Jamie’s disposition was generally sanguine, but when he put his mind to it he could glower like the Viking gods he resembled. It had thus far made for a silent journey.

“Ye can just go ahead and say it, Claire.” When it came, his voice was diminished by resignation.

“I’m curious what it is you want me to say,” she replied.

“That ye willna be moving back inta the flat next month. If that means we willna be seeing each other at all, well, I’d rather ye tell me before I go introducing ye tae my family as my girlfriend like a fool.”

When she turned to face this accusation, the first thing she noticed was the absence of light behind his typically radiant blue eyes. It neutralized the acid on her tongue.

“Those are awfully dire conclusions to be drawing from some rental adverts, my lad,” she quipped. Then, almost begging. “You promised to be patient with me.”

“Aye, I did. But ye also promised tae try, Claire. I canna help but feel that ye’re just marking time, waiting for me to fuck up badly enough that ye can say, well, that’s that then, another disappointment, and retreat tae yer solitude.”

It wasn’t far from the truth, although she’d never have stated it so baldly. As with every emotional conversation she had with Jamie, his words left her feeling naked and exposed. He saw her so well. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his love for her, because what else kept a man coming back once all the ugliness was on display?

“I hear what you’re saying, Jamie. I think you know this isn’t easy for me. Just being here with you on this train, Christ. I almost called you twice this morning to say I wouldn’t be coming.”

“But ye didna. Why?”

“Because the only thing that scares me more than being with you,” her voice rose in pitch, “is being without you. I’m here, but it’s taking bloody everything I have. So please do not ask me for more,” she pleaded.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder and she came to nestle against him willingly.

“I would never ask ye for that, _a ghraidh_. I only want ye tae learn tae let go of yer fear, as it serves for nought. I learned that the hard way with my accident. T’wasn’t anything I earned nor deserved, but it happened nonetheless. We canna chose if we win or lose. We can only chose how we fight.”

She listened to his heart, steadily thumping beneath the muscles of his chest. To think, he could have been taken away before she came to know the dimensions of its strength. It sent a chill down her spine.

“I ne’er told ye, that first night we met a’ the pub, how ye reminded me of a fierce lioness. All golden eyed and imperious. An’ when I saw those same eyes, peering at me o’er a surgical mask the night of the blast, I understood I would live, because ye did. Ye’re a fighter, Sassenach. I kent it from the start.”

“God, Jamie, I was an utter shambles at the time,” she confessed. His faith in her was overwhelming.

“Aye. But ye were goin’ down swinging.”

***

Ian Murray, Jamie’s best friend and brother-in-law, met them at the train station in Inverness. As they navigated the country roads, his conversation with Jamie had the ease and teasing short-hand of timeworn friendship. Claire was content to sit quietly and listen, the inconclusive discussion on the train looming large in her peripheral vision.

It was well past dark as they arrived at Lallybroch, giving the structure an air of timelessness as yellow light bathed the courtyard from windows high above. The battered wooden entrance swung open to the welcoming chaos of barking dogs, children’s laughter and lilting Gaelic voices spilling into the night. 

Claire hung back, pretending to help Ian with their bags as Jamie jogged forward to embrace a dark-haired woman who barely reached his shoulders, lifting a giggling toddler from her hip and high into the air. The dogs spun around his legs, practically tripping him as he tried to climb the stairs and answer his sister’s rapid fire questions all at once. Halting before the door he glanced over his shoulder, obviously expecting her to be right behind him. Seeing her hesitating in the courtyard, he handed his nephew over to Jenny with a quiet word. She nodded and disappeared inside, the dogs at her heels.

Feeling absurdly nervous, Claire mounted the stairs and accepted Jamie's outstretched hand.

“So, this is it?” she asked inanely.

“Aye, this is it. Welcome to my home, Sassenach.”

***

They’d eaten on the train, so after a hasty introduction to the rest of the family and a promise to become better acquainted over breakfast, Jamie and Claire headed upstairs. It occurred to her on the second landing that she had no idea where he expected her to sleep. Their status as temporary lodgers in other people’s homes back in London had made the question moot. 

Visceral memories of their increasingly heated goodnight kisses caused Claire to trip on a braided rug. Jamie turned as she was righting herself.

“Aye, well, here we are. The lavatory is jest across the hall. If ye need anything, the laird’s room is up these stairs.”

“The laird’s room? Wait, who’s the laird in this story?” she was momentarily distracted from her agitation by this unforeseen detail. 

“Well, me. But dinna get any grand illusions. Tis only a leftover title from when Clan Fraser ruled o’er these parts before the Rising.”

Her mouth was moving before she fully considered her next words.

“And does that make me your lady?”

Instead of laughing off her glib comment as she hoped he would, Jamie’s face grew somber.

“Nah. Tha’ position is presently unfilled. In this house, the laird sleeps next tae his lady, always. G’night tae ye, Sassenach.” And with a soft kiss that barely ghosted her lips, Jamie retired to bed. Alone.

***

The next two days were a glimpse into a way of living whose existence Claire had previously discredited. Communal mealtimes, where each family member had an assigned role, from buttering the bread (Jamie’s three-year old nephew and namesake) to clearing the table (Ian, and by their second meal, Claire). Morning and evening chores that left the adults drowsy and smelling slightly of the chicken coop. Siblings bickering, slamming doors and then laughing about it by suppertime. Outings to local landmarks in the rain, a cheerful row of matching Wellingtons and wax cotton jackets tramping along well-worn paths. Visits to neighbours, carrying a Pyrex dish of some culinary offering and returning four hours later, stuffed to the gills and carrying a different Pyrex dish loaded with leftovers.

Seeing Jamie take his place at the centre of this family dynamic was a shock. She’d only ever known him in an urban setting, where he was one man among millions; noteworthy for his decency, his peculiar fondness for blood pudding, and because he was hers. At Lallybroch, he grew before her eyes, taking on new dimensions that challenged and teased her understanding of him.

This was his concept of home.

This was his template for love.

***

On Sunday afternoon, the clouds had lifted to reveal a robin’s egg sky. Claire was accompanying Ian on a circuit of the upper pasture. A border collie named Jem bounded down the hill ahead of them. Ian was an easy companion, and they were mid-conversation about the impact of the Scots in the history of medicine when Claire pulled up short, words evaporating in her throat.

There in the hay field just below stood Jamie. Long rows of golden sheaves that had been cut the past week were now drying in the late summer sun. Armed with nothing but a pitchfork, he had obviously been working for some time. He wore boots and loose trousers, but his shirt was long abandoned. Sweat glistened in the fine russet curls that covered his breastbone and over the sun-kissed curves of his shoulders. He was so beautiful, it hurt to breathe.

“He’s himself again,” Ian remarked. “It lightens my heart tae see it.”

Claire tore her eyes away from Jamie. Ian was watching her with a knowing twinkle.

“Well, he obviously loves being here, with his family...” she dodged.

Ian shook his head.

“Nah, t’isn’t that. Since his accident, he’s been... altered. Jamie was always the golden one, ye ken? Smart, strong, funny, kind. He wore it well, but it gives ye a sense of... invincibility, mebbe? Tha’ blast ripped apart more than his back. I think it made him doubt who he is on the inside. Ye’ve helped him find tha’ man again, Claire, and for that we are in yer debt.”

She couldn’t look at Ian then, for fear that he would see just how much she wanted what he was saying to be the truth. To be essential to someone who meant so much to her, to be enough purely by being herself, it was more than her feelings could contain.

It was what Jamie had been trying to show her all along.

***

The third stair between the guest room and the laird’s bedroom creaked, and Claire froze, eyes darting guiltily down the corridor to where Ian, Jenny and their children slept. Nothing stirred beyond the drumming of her heartbeat, so she crept the rest of the way, tapping quietly on the solid wood door.

Jamie’s voice was alert as he beckoned, “Come in, Jenny.” She clutched a thin sheaf of papers to her chest and entered the room. The only illumination came from the hearth, where a low fire still blazed. It cast its light on a large, masculine room, with deep blue wallpaper, heavy damask drapes and an immense four poster bed. Jamie sat up against the headboard, the glow from his iPad echoing in his downcast eyes.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me,” she whispered.

With a visible flinch, the iPad fell to his lap.

“Claire...”

He stretched her name out like honey from a jar, trickling sweetly from his mouth.

She wanted to run. From this plush room, this welcoming home, this uninvited sanctuary of tenderness. Her legs quivered with the impulse. Instead, she plunged forward, right to the edge of the bed, and thrust her offering towards Jamie, who followed her movements as though she was defusing a bomb.

“Whas’ this then?” he asked, peering down at the document.

“It’s our lease. I signed it. And faxed a copy to the landlord.”

There, she had done it. The pebble that would start the landslide. There was no turning back now, and it was pure relief.

Jamie was silent for so long, staring down at her signature, that she began to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy.

“Are ye sure, Sassenach?”

A drunken encounter in a pub. Agony radiating from his bright blue eyes on a hospital gurney. Her rain-soaked salvation. A roommate. A friend. His steady patience as they tentatively grew closer. And now something more, something bigger than she knew how to articulate, sneaking around the margins of her fear. 

She wasn’t sure of much, but she was certain that Jamie’s love could never hurt. The rest, the panic that she could lose him or disappoint him, that was just the price of paradise.

Instead of answering the question directly, she walked around to the opposite side of the bed and gestured to the empty mattress opposite Jamie’s long form.

“Is this place still vacant?”

His smile was radiant.

“For ye, Sassenach, always.”

***

It was like no other sex she’d ever experienced. Intimacy, up until then, had been a transaction, an exchange of debits. This was a cancellation of accounts, an obliteration of any mutual debt. They loved each other with the pure, mindless joy of a wave meeting the shore.

Which isn’t to say that it was perfect. It felt strange to touch Jamie in more than a friendly way. Not at all unpleasant, but strange. Like going to the theatre to see a well-loved play, and suddenly being thrust onto the stage. The hesitance behind Jamie’s touch told her he felt something similar. 

In a particularly awkward moment, they were jostling and bumping to remove each other’s pajamas when her hair got caught in the buckle of his watch.

“Ouch!” she yelped. He pulled away, stammering apologies, which only made things worse. After a few failed attempts on Jamie’s part, she reached up and unclasped the watch band, giving him two hands to work with. By this point they were both giggling, the gravitas of the moment lost.

“Ye’ve a great deal of hair, _mo nighean donn_ ,” Jamie groused as he lay the offending watch on his nightstand.

“Complaining already, Fraser?”

“God, no. Ye’re... would it be sentimental tae say ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?”

She was lying naked, but for a pair of skimpy knickers, the firelight caressing her limbs where they were splayed against the dark sheets. Jamie’s visual perusal of her body held a potent combination of lust and reverence that warmed her blood.

“I suppose I can tolerate a bit of sentimentality,” she conceded, rolling towards the bulwark of his naked chest. Her fingers played down the corduroy ripples of his flank.

“You’re beautiful too, Jamie.”

The mood in the room shifted again. Soon they were pitching across the mattress, trying to touch in as many ways possible. Their skin grew slippery with sweat. At some point, underwear must have been removed, because she could feel the coarse abrasion of his pubic hair against her thigh, alongside the tensile ridge of his erection.

“Claire,” he gasped as their hips ground together in frenzied pulses. “If ye dinna want me tae go any further, I need ye tae tell me now.”

She reached between them, taking the heft of him in her palm, feeling a spasm of need shudder through his frame.

“There’s nothing about you that I do not want, James Fraser.”

A cavernous groan, a frantic search for a condom in the bedside drawer, the tearing of a foil wrapper, and then a breathless hesitation. She opened her eyes to see Jamie looking down as though she was the morning sun. There was nothing left inside her but dazzling hunger, filling the spaces where her fear once resided.

Here was the start.


End file.
